The Art of Pondering

By Jim Schinstock

Wednesday

Jan 9, 2019 at 1:01 AM

This is a revised, revamped and updated version of a column I wrote a couple of years ago:

Four items have “pride of place” on my chest of drawers: (1) a cross, (2) A Chinese wind chime, (3) a Galileo water thermometer, and (4) a replica of Rodin’s “The Thinker.” Each is there for a reason, but it is Rodin’s “thinker” who implacably stares me down this morning.

He reminds me that this is a good time of the year for thinking, pondering, contemplating, ruminating, deliberating, meditating, or just mulling things over. It’s a good time because nothing especially special is going on right now. New Year’s Day has come and gone, the Magi have met the Christ Child and it is time to put away the Christmas trees and decorations until next December.

It’s too early to worry about income taxes. The nights are just now starting to get shorter, and, according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, snow will be more often in our forecast for 2019. It is just too soon to work in the garden, were I so inclined (I’m not). Lately, following Carolyn’s “instructions,” remarkably similar to “commands,” I’ve begun trying to impose some order on the chaos that passes for my desk.

But even the Chiefs get a week off before their next step toward the Super Bowl, so I’m going to back off and do some serious pondering. Pondering doesn’t necessarily mean grieving, brooding, worrying or even meditating; it may mean simply wondering at a somewhat deeper level.

For example, Luke describes Mary as “treasuring all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). And what was she pondering? Picture her as a young teenager who recently gave birth to a son in a stable. There is some question or confusion about who her son’s father is. Her husband is so concerned about the king rounding up the local baby boys that he wants to move to Egypt!

Meanwhile, she and her son have been visited by diverse groups including shepherds and wise men from other parts of the world. When Mary presented herself and her son at the temple for his consecration and her purification, she met two older people, Simeon and Anna, who prophesied about the impact her son would have on the world. No wonder Mary was “pondering” so many things!

No doubt Job did some heavy thinking when he was suffering all his misfortunes. Likewise, the reluctant I’d-rather-not-go-to-Nineveh prophet Jonah contemplated many things while stewing in the whale’s gastric juices.

“Pondering” leads to thinking outside the box and looking at different implications and possibilities. We are story-telling creatures, and most stories, whether an Aesopian fable or a biblical parable, have some moral or lesson attached. Sometimes the lesson is obvious, other times not so much (commentaries on the Prodigal Son number in the thousands).

So here is a story to ponder: Once upon a time, a man named Billy found a horse which belonged to the king. Not realizing who owned the horse, Billy rode the horse and kept it. On discovering Billy had his horse, the king arrested Billy and started to execute him on the spot for stealing his horse. Billy tried to explain, adding that he was perfectly willing to accept his punishment.

“But,” interrupted Billy, “did you know that I can teach your horse to talk? Wouldn’t owning a talking horse make you the envy of every other ruler in the area?” The king, thinking he had nothing to lose, gave Billy a year to teach his horse to talk.

Of course, Billy’s friends thought he was nuts. But Billy, ever the cool head, replied, “Who knows what could happen in a year? The king could die, I might die, the horse might die, the world may come to an end, or maybe the king will just forget. Or maybe, just maybe, the horse may talk. One must believe that anything can happen.”

If this story sounds suspiciously like the story of Scheherazade and her 1001 nights of storytelling, don’t be too surprised. The moral is the same; waiting isn’t always a bad thing. Both Scheherazade and Billy show a willingness to wait and an openness to surprise.

One of my favorite sayings, familiar to my kids and many of my students, is “Don’t cross any bridges until you get to the river.” The corollary is “Don’t burn any bridges, lest you find yourself unable to get back home.”

Just a couple points to ponder this new year.

Jim Schinstock is a former philosophy teacher. Email: schinjc@yahoo.com

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